Day 266. I thrust myself out of that cage and need a paintbrush to touch up the blurry details.

Day 265. I purchased them for a purpose though I prefer them as an object to gaze upon.

Day 268. When it snows, I let each snowflake melt on my skin to absorb the secrets of the sky.

Day 264. You need to hold up the mirror, Simone. I can't do this alone.

Day 267. I run one foot up the other shin and back down again, forcing heat between two sticks of wood.

Day 266. I’m not angry. He said. I know. I said. I am. 

Day 264. The girl kept her eyes on her hands as she plunged bits of torn bread into the runny eggs. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time.

Day 263. If she knew me, I would write her tiny love letters on slips of paper I folded just to fit in those pockets.

Day 262. The fruit will be rotten when I arrive and who will be with me to sip its wine?

Day 261. Cats Tears and Purple Hibiscus.

Day 261. Let the birds wait.

Day 260. I feel like sap splitting through a vine, bleeding out through the pressure.

Day 259. I gave you fourteen words.

Day 258. There is no one beside me now and I have become the balloon. Waiting for an explosion to set me free.

Day 257. I realize how much of myself I've lost in your presence in these moments.

Day 256. It's nice to have friends who can laugh in the rain.

Day 255. A deep depression tends to follow me when I drink. Like a perfume that smells lovely on its own, although once sprayed onto your skin, it blends horribly with your pH.

Day 254. I was grateful for her self-willed ignorance.

Day 253. I’d rather grope my way through this world than follow a false god around.

Day 262. I write poetry in the sand with a fingertip. I love, I love, my love, I love.